Life lessons from a three year old

Christmas is my favorite time of the year. It's also my least favorite.

Wrap your head around that one.

I love it, I love it, I love it. But it makes me cuh-razy.

It's stressful for me. Gifts and gatherings and tight finances and crazy schedules make me want to scream. 

My kids can tell you. Well, the one that talks can. 

Lately I can feel myself spinning out of control. Snapping at small things. Heck, this morning I raised my voice at a Verizon call tech and called their policies ridiculous. Sorry, Verizon lady. 

Anyway, this afternoon at nap time Uriah was going insane. Crying because he wanted his pants off, but then when I took them off he cried because HE wanted to be the one to do it. Cried that the sound machine was on the wrong sound, then it was too loud, then he wanted it back. Yada, yada, yada. 

And I lost it.

Big time. 

Big, ugly, screaming, insane, lost it. 

 And then I slammed his door and left him crying and scared in his room. 

(Hold off on calling the authorities, there's a twist coming.)

I plopped down in the chair and felt terrible. Sick, even. How could I lose it like that on him? It's nap time and he was up late last night with no nap.. He is tired. And even if he wasn't, he is three years old. He isn't in control of his emotions and I am supposed to show him how to be. And I blew it. He needs discipline, not terror. He shouldn't cry himself to sleep after I scared the heck out of him. I could have handled it so much better. And my heart felt heavy. So, heavy. 

So I made a decision, to set the example. I asked Jesus to forgive me, then I got up, walked back in his room and knelt by his bed. I looked in his scared eyes and I told him I was sorry. I explained how I acted badly and should not have reacted that way. He made bad decisions, but so did I. And I asked him to forgive me. 

And he said yes. 

And I cried.

And he HELD ME. 

He held me. I cried and told him I love him. He said he loves me back, and he rubbed his hand up and down my back just like I do to him when he's hurt or when he is sad. 

I felt free. 

Forgiveness is freeing. 

I don't care what you believe, forgiveness is freeing. Whether it comes from your child or spouse or friend. You feel better when someone forgives you. 

But nothing compares to the forgiveness that comes from the only one who hasn't had to ask for it. I screw up. A lot. You wouldn't want to be my friend if you knew how much. (You may not want to be my friend anyway, ha) but I am so grateful to not have to be bogged down by the guilt that accompanies those actions. It is freeing. And beautiful.

Thank you, Jesus. For making me forgiven, and free.